Interlude, a transformers/beast wars fanfic

Depth Charge knew there had to be worse energon bars in the universe than the one he was currently in. But there couldn't have been very many.

He swirled his drink in his hands, looking down into it as though the murky liquid contained some fascinating secret. Actually, he'd barely touched it; he only had enough of what he ordered to keep anyone from getting suspicious. However, the bar's patrons usually kept to themselves. Rengoe's--the name of which was proclaimed on a lurid neon sign over the door--was the kind of place where a prying glance was certain invitation to a violent death.

In his previous life--as he thought of it--he'd been to an energon bar exactly once. And that had only been to stop the nagging of his friends, who'd accused him of having "a steel rod up the tailpipe" till he finally gave in. Naturally, they'd chosen the lowest dive in the Newsted district, a section of Cybertron that hadn't seen urban renewal since before the Great War.

His memory banks were hazy on the details (it was the first, last, and only time he'd ever gotten...over-energized). He vaguely recalled an ugly business involving his deputy Cobalt and an alien who couldn't keep his hands (tentacles? both?) where they belonged. The whole affair had resulted in widespread suspensions, reprimands, and a nasty dent in his helmet that he never did get an explanation for. Having to apologize to his superiors while fighting off the headache of a lifetime had definitely been the low point of his career. Cobalt, as usual, had taken the whole thing in stride, and teased him about it for weeks afterward.

She was dead, now, of course.

It was hard to believe it had been over a full stellar cycle since...he cut the thought off sharply. Depth Charge swirled his drink again, more slowly this time. He wasn't even sure what was in it, actually. His mind flashed back to Ranger, the department's requisite practical joker; he could picture his amused expression, hear his voice saying, "I'd run a thorough chemical analysis before I put that in my systems, chief." At which point Depth Charge would've replied, "Don't call me 'chief'," as he'd done at least five times a day.

Ranger was dead now, too.

Depth Charge set the drink down, picked it up again. The smoky air was clogging his air intakes, and must've been what was making his optics burn...

"You just gonna look at that all night, hon?"

Startled, Depth Charge looked up at the tray-bearing waitress who'd addressed him. The purple-and-gold mechanoid saurian resembled a bizarre cross between an Ankylosaur and a shapely, narrow-waisted female humanoid. Like the other waitresses here, she wore a wispy pastel scarf, which seemed incongruously delicate next to the spike-tipped armor shell on her shoulders and upper back. Her eyes were large and angular, with long metallic lashes, and she blinked them once as she tilted her tapered, wedge-shaped head in curiosity.

His reply was more snappish than he'd intended. "None of your business."

She only shrugged. "Guess not. Still, you ever reach the bottom, just gimme a holler, huh?" Her club-tipped tail gestured around the sparsely-populated bar. "Almost closin' time, so don't wait too long."

Depth Charge didn't answer, and lowered his head as she turned away. Another night with no leads, not so much as a rumor. He was starting to wonder if this planet--a wretched backwater called Ktulu-7--was a dead end. His quarry might have moved on by now, or those rumored "cannibal killings" might have been just an urban legend. Maybe he should give up, try someplace else...

He became aware that the waitress hadn't left yet. As he raised his head again, he saw her posed fetchingly with her back to him, gazing partway back over her shoulder. "How d'you do it, anyway?"

He wasn't sure what to make of that question. "Do what?"

"You know, drink? With your mouth all covered up and all." She turned to face him, sauntered over to his side of the booth, and sat down without waiting for an invitation. Taken by surprise, he didn't protest as she set her tray down and slid across the patchy vinyl cushion towards him. "Course," she continued with a sly grin, "I wonder how you do LOTS of things, without a mouth."

His gaze narrowed at this. She took no notice, however, and laid her delicate clawed hand on his massive arm, purring, "You interested in showing me sometime?"

Depth Charge only stared at her. Finally, he spoke in a low growl: "Whatever you're selling, I'm not buying."

Her expression froze, then she yanked her hand back as if she'd touched something disgusting. Her movements sharp and abrupt, she pushed away from him, stood up, grabbed her tray, and speared him with an angry glare. "I'm not selling anything, you overgrown freak," she almost spat.

Surprised by her anger, and uncomfortably aware of the attention she was attracting, Depth Charge tried to mutter an apology. But he didn't get the chance as she went on: "It occur to you that I maybe wanted to spend time with you? That I thought you were better than the usual trash that comes in here?" Her words were harsh, but they couldn't mask the hurt in her eyes. "Guess I was wrong."

At that, she whirled and stormed away. "Wait!" Depth Charge called, but she either didn't hear or pretended not to. As she passed one of the tables, an inebriated Skuckzoid cackled and ran his hand down her thigh. Instantly, her tail lashed out and clocked him in the center of the forehead. He wailed and held his hand to his head as she sashayed past, not even breaking her stride, and disappeared into the smoky gloom.

The bar seemed much more quiet than it had before. Depth Charge sat in embarrassed silence for a micro-second or two. Then he snarled at no one in particular, "What're you lookin' at?" Immediately everyone found something very urgent to occupy his, her, or its attention. The Maximal set down his drink, flung a few coins onto the battered tabletop, and left without another word.

The alley was not a place most beings would choose as a dining spot, but there were always those who didn't have much of a choice. The mangy, three-legged canid rooting through a heap of garbage was one such creature. The enormous shadow that fell over him belonged to another.

The canid yelped in terror and hobbled off as fast as he could, tail between his legs. The other being ignored the small scavenger. Such small prey wasn't worth his time, or what remained of his dignity.

Muttering incoherent nothings, he lumbered unsteadily down the cramped alley as the fetid night mists swirled and parted before him. The stink of the place repulsed even him. It seemed to eat through his plating like an acid, penetrating to the very core of his being. He felt feverish, light-headed...and hungry. Oh, how he was hungry.

This planet didn't attract many mechanoids, and consuming organic substances to survive had left his systems burning inside. But he had great strength and endurance, and could bear the physical deprivation; if only it wasn't for the...other...hunger.

Their sparks, their minds, their...souls... he thought listlessly, staring down at an unconscious alien sprawled in yet another trash heap. The organic snored loudly, heedless of his observer's presence. Weak. Feeble. Useless!

His empathic nature fed off their pain, but it all tasted decayed, rancid. All he perceived was the chemically-numbed anguish and misery of long-ruined lives, the half-remembered heartaches and fears of the galaxy's dregs. None of them burned brightly enough to feed the void within him. None held the purity, the intensity of spark that he needed to sate his own. Not one, except for...

He jerked his head up with a sound that was half-query, half bestial snort. Something tugged at the edges of his perception, like a familiar scent drifting on a faint breeze. Could it be? Could it be...him?

He sniffed the air like a hunting animal, trembling with excitement, ignoring the damp stench of the alley that coated his olfactory sensors. "Tell me it's you..." he whispered, almost pleading. "Tell me you've come for me..."

Yes!

It WAS!

The monstrosity clenched his fists and raised his arms skyward with a bellow of triumph. The hideous sound bounced from wall to wall, echoing down the alleyway, causing the unconscious alien to stir fitfully in his sleep. "My friend! Oh, it's so good that you've come!"

He laughed aloud with genuine glee; then his voice became quiet, almost vulnerable. "I was so afraid...I thought you'd given up on me! But now, now..."

He cut himself off, then turned and strode away with renewed purpose. Then he halted, cocked his head as if pondering, and headed back to the alley dweller. Raising his leg casually, he stomped down with all his strength, flattening the sleeping alien's head with a thick, crunching sound.

He wiped his foot on the concrete, then reversed course once more, forcing himself to move cautiously when he wanted to dance for joy. He didn't spare a second thought for the corpse behind him...

...the latest victim of Protoform X.

When Depth Charge had left Rengoe's, he'd heard a faint, echoing sound, so distant he thought he might have imagined it. Now he looked back and forth cautiously as he waited outside, optics narrowed as he strained his audio sensors for anything unusual. But he heard only the low undertones of the sleeping city, the rattling hum of a defective air cooler, a canid barking in the distance...nothing out of the ordinary. Certainly nothing like the fuel-chilling screams of a deranged serial killer.

Getting paranoid, Depth Charge thought with grim amusement. I'll be seeing X around every street corner next.

He hated being away from his well-traveled Starhopper and its specialized sensors, the ones designed to detect his mortal enemy's indestructible spark. His personal sensors were of excellent quality, of course, but for Depth Charge, "good enough" was never good enough...

He heard the sound of a closing door, and turned back towards the bar's rear exit, just across from where he'd been waiting. The one who'd emerged didn't act surprised to see him.

"What do you want?" she demanded, but her voice was more subdued than angry.

"I..." He hesitated, then mentally reprimanded himself for his own awkwardness. "I just wanted to apologize."

She regarded him warily for several seconds, adjusting her scarf and the ratty satchel that hung over her shoulder. At last, she said, "Fine. You're forgiven." She looked up and down the silent, deserted street, then stepped fully into the light of the streetlamp where Depth Charge stood. "Ain't you got someplace to be at this hour?"

"I, ah, thought I might walk you home." He cringed inwardly. Primus, you're not asking her for a date.

The female barked out a laugh. "I can get there myself."

He shrugged. "I'm sure you can."

She looked at him askance, then smiled. "OK, why not. Nothin' wrong with a little company, right?" At that, she started off, and he fell into step next to her. The damp mists soon obscured them from sight as they headed off.

The female's half-joking, half-serious voice trailed behind: "But you better not try anything, hon."

The other's response was dryly amused. "Wouldn't think of it."

Then they were gone...and X was left alone once more.

Slowly, he emerged from his hiding place from around the corner in a narrow alley behind the bar. He was stunned speechless by what he'd just seen. And more than that, he felt...betrayed.

It wasn't as though Depth Charge and the girl were in love; he would've tasted that nauseating emotion from a hundred clicks away. They weren't in lust, either...and X could easily have stomached the taste of mere soulless passion. But what he'd sensed was, from his perspective, the worst of all possibilities.

Even though it was faint, and hidden beneath layers of distrust and self-protection...Depth Charge and that miserable, interloping female had the potential to become...friends.

Slowly, X leaned his bulk against the peeling, graffiti-marred wall and let himself sag down. "No, no, no," he mumbled, shaking his head sadly. "That's not right at all."

He looked up at the light, irregular sound of footsteps approaching, but his mind remained locked within itself. "This will never do." A Skuckzoid came stumbling around a corner towards him. The alien was holding a hand to his forehead and whimpering, eyes squeezed shut in self-pitying misery. When he opened them again, it was far too late.

The huge mechanoid fixed the petrified reptile with a freezing glare. But when he spoke, it wasn't to the small alien, but to someone who wasn't even there.

"You can't have that."

The Skuckzoid barely had time to wet his pants as the monstrous being lunged forward and seized him by both shoulders. "You can't have that!" X whirled and slammed his victim against the wall, cracking the back of his skull like an egg, splattering dark green blood and lumpy bits of brain against the flaking blue paint.

He shook the corpse violently. "YOU CAN'T HAVE THAT!" He smashed it again, and again, and again, reducing the body to a sodden mass of mangled flesh and shattered bone. "YOU...CAN'T...HAVE...THAT!!"

Finally, X ceased his onslaught on the mangled corpse and let it plop to the ground, wrenching off its still-intact left arm almost absentmindedly. "Hrmm," X grumbled to himself, sounding petulant. He put the end of the severed limb in his mouth and began to chew, slurping away the damp flesh from the protruding bone. Then he spat out a lump of sopping green meat. "Pah!"

Shaking his head in disgust, he muttered, "Is this what I've been reduced to?" X shook the arm in front of his face; it flopped limply back and forth like a poorly-operated marionette. "You," he accused, "Didn't have a single emotion worth savoring." He flung it to the ground in disgust; it hit the spreading puddle of blood with a thick splash. "Just like every other maggot on this dungheap of a planet!"

A trickle of glutinous liquid ran down his chin, and he wiped it with the back of his hand. He shook his head with a sigh as he grew calmer. "Very well, then," he observed, sounding moderately irritated. "We'll play it your way...for now."

His green optics narrowed slightly as he gazed into the mists, in the direction the pair had gone. "At least she's a mechanoid," he admitted. "So the situation's not a total loss..." X's voice trailed off as he glanced up at the starless sky, which had begun to lighten faintly. "Best to wait till after nightfall, though. I so dislike gawkers when I'm trying to work."

X chuckled at his own joke as he splashed away through the expanding lake of warm emerald fluid, and gave himself over to pleasant thoughts of what he knew would soon be his.

The strange pair walked together down the dark, quiet streets, the large male checking his stride so the female didn't have to sprint to keep up. "Guess I should ask your name," Depth Charge observed, after some time had passed.

She grinned mischievously. "Guess you should." She left him dangling for a moment, then said, "Kyla."

"Kyla," he repeated. "Nice to meet you."

"Uh-huh." She paused. "And you?"

"Depth Charge."

Kyla snickered. "Where'd you get a name like that?"

He'd grown tired of explaining that long ago. "It's a long story."

"Mmm," she replied, unconcerned. As they passed beneath a guttering streetlamp, she rapped her hands against it in rhythm, playing a brief drum solo for no apparent reason. She concluded the musical interlude by clanging her tail-club against the pole like a gong. Then she walked on as though absolutely nothing had happened.

Depth Charge seemed rather bemused by the spectacle. Kyla hummed a tune as she fell into step once more, then observed, "You oughtta get one a' these, hon." She waved the tail at him flirtatiously, then stole an unabashed glance at his backside. "It'd look good on you."

He couldn't think of a response to that, so he tried another topic. "You, ah, always walk home alone?"

Another wicked grin. "Not always." Then she sobered slightly. "Most a' the time, yeah. But don't worry. I can take care of myself."

With that, she whipped her left arm towards him. In the blink of an optic, a banded metal cylinder dropped into her waiting hand from the seam where her forearm met her wrist. She pressed a button near the tip, and a flickering white energy blade sprang to life.

Depth Charge had stopped walking, and looked down at the weapon, his face impassive. "I thought energon blades were illegal."

"This is Ktulu-7, hon. Nothing's 'illegal'." She hesitated, then switched the blade off and handed it to him.

He examined it with professional interest, snapping the blade on, then off. "These things can destroy a spark. Hardcore slag, isn't it?" She shrugged. The weapon was small enough for him to hold in one fist, but a respectable size for her. Finally he handed it back, realizing that what she'd done represented an incredible act of trust, especially towards a male who was essentially a total stranger.

He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

They walked a bit longer in silence before Kyla stopped before a ramshackle apartment building. Well, no more or less ramshackle than the rest of the city, technically speaking. "This is my stop, thanks." She winked. "You wanna come upstairs?"

His response was polite, but firm. "No."

She gave an oh-well shrug. "Can't blame a gal for tryin'." Ascending the rickety stairs to the front door as she pulled her entry card from her satchel, she called back, "So...see you tomorrow night?"

"Maybe."

She laughed, running her card through the entry lock. "Well, if you show up, you can tell me a couple things..." The locking mechanism beeped, and the door hissed slightly as it opened. "...like who you are, what brings you here, who it is you're lookin' for..."

Immediately, Depth Charge's entire body tensed as his optics squeezed into slits. "How'd you know I'm looking for someone?"

Kyla was unfazed by his reaction. "Sweetie, you been doin' this as long as I have, you pick up a thing or two." She stepped inside, then offered, "See you around...Depth Charge." With that, the door hissed shut again, and she was gone.

Depth Charge stood for a few seconds, then headed back down the street. His own temporary lodgings--in a hotel noted neither for class nor sanitary standards--were clear across town from here. But he didn't mind the walk; it would give him time to think. At this rate he could log some shutdown time before the sun rose...Oh, yeah, at LEAST half a cycle's worth, he thought sarcastically.

Still, for all his mental grumbling, he didn't feel completely bad.

In fact, he almost felt...good.

That's pretty slagging weird.

Lost in thought, he failed to notice the smaller being seated against a wall across the street. He wore an oversize hooded garment that concealed his features (and, in fact, his very species), and clutched a bottle in a gloved hand. The figure made neither sound nor movement as Depth Charge passed, but remained with head slumped over raised knees as if asleep.

However, once the Maximal had disappeared from sight, he raised a small communicator to his hidden face, then spoke a few indistinct words, his tones low and urgent.

The following day passed uneventfully. The local constabulary...or the laughable assemblage that passed for one...had discovered the Skuckzoid's remains in the alley behind Rengoe's. The victim had no identification on him, so the officers merely wrote it up as yet another unexplained murder. The corpse was hauled off to the always-busy morgue, and that was that. The only notable thing to come of their investigation was the fact that a rookie officer had violently lost his breakfast at the sight.

In her apartment some blocks away, Kyla slept the day through, as she typically did. She woke with a grumble in the late afternoon, smacking her alarm clock into silence with her traditional curse.

Lying in bed, she spent several minutes gazing at the ceiling of her one-room apartment. A long yellow beam of sunlight traced its way along the ceiling with infinitesimal slowness. Normally Kyla tried not to think about the coming day when she woke. In fact, there were times when she used all the drink she could get her claws on to insure that she didn't have to think at all.

But today she did think, and wonder, and smile mysteriously to herself. Then she got up and began to get ready for work, whistling an upbeat tune. A voice through the wall from the adjoining apartment yelled at her to shut up, and she called back a suggestion as to what he could do with himself. She spent a little more time on her preparations than was normal, then laughed at her own pretensions. Grabbing up her satchel, she adjusted her scarf one last time, then headed out.

Halfway across town, Depth Charge woke from shutdown at the promptings of his internal computer. His bed was unused; he always slept in a chair facing the door, weapon in his lap. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept lying down, or had dreams that were untroubled by hideous laughter and tormented screams...

He grunted slightly and stretched, automatically scanning his surroundings as he did so. Checking his chronometers, he noted that it would be another couple of hours before the bar opened. Then he wondered why that should be the first thing on his mind.

Craning his head left and right to work out the sleep-stiffness, he got to his feet and moved to the window. The golden sunlight made him squint as he parted the blinds and looked down to the street. There wasn't much going on by Ktulu-7 standards...which meant he could have made as many arrests in one afternoon as he had in his entire career on Colony Omicron. But he reminded himself that he wasn't an officer; not any more.

Depth Charge debated with himself. He could look for some fresh leads, try to search out some new contacts, or even forsake the planet altogether and start anew somewhere else.

Instead, he headed for Rengoe's.

And finally, Protoform X awoke in the depths of a sewer. He looked up at the bars of the grate high above his head, and the lines of bright light penetrating them, which turned the dripping moisture into drops of liquid gold. It reminded him of the cell where he'd spent the earliest days of his life. All his time alone had been spent like this; waiting and waiting, chained to the wall, nursing old pains and waiting for new ones. It had been the only life he'd ever known. But now he was free.

"Huh," he muttered darkly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Free." The word tasted bitter, and didn't bring him the joy that it should have. Idly, he fingered the severed head he held in one enormous hand, then tossed it the length of the sewer pipe. It disappeared into the shadowy distance with a splash.

X felt tired, drained. He decided to shut down again until night, when he could emerge from the depths and walk the streets unhindered.

The thought cheered him. After all, he had quite an evening planned. He dozed off, and failed to notice as the sunbeams above were interrupted by the passage of marching figures. They moved with military precision, feet striking the ground in near-cadence, relentless and unstoppable.

Rengoe's was uncrowded; it was still early in the evening, and a work night for those lucky enough to have jobs. The regulars, however, were already at their appointed places. There was an ancient, withered Torqulon in his usual spot at the end of the bar. The wrinkled simian, reeking of age and wine, was telling the ages-old story of the ruination of his world and his career, just as he did every night. And the multi-armed bartender pouring drinks was roundly ignoring him, just as he did every night.

In a dim corner by the creaky jukebox sat a pair of suggestively clad female Pavonians, also regular patrons. The feline aliens preened and purred to each other, gazing around the bar with luminous slit-pupiled eyes, seeking a meal ticket for the evening. There were a few other indistinct shapes at some other tables. Depth Charge wasn't overly concerned with them, however.

"Hey there," a familiar voice called.

He looked up to see Kyla strolling his way, expertly balancing her tray in one hand. He only nodded by way of greeting, and she laughed. "Gee, don't get so excited," she scolded. "It's embarrassing." Not sure how to reply, he didn't speak until she asked, "The usual?"

"Yeah." He felt the need to explain, "I don't really drink, you know."

"Well, nobody's perfect. Be right back," she finished, and headed back to the bar.

Depth Charge watched her plop herself down on a stool, chatting amicably at the gloomy bartender. The Torqulon turned to include her in his rantings, but she paid him no mind. A group of three, their species made indistinct by their heavy clothing, passed through the bar and sat down at a table across the room from a similar threesome. Depth Charge looked around, more out of habit than anything else, but didn't get to run a sensor sweep before Kyla returned.

She plunked his drink down with her usual lack of ceremony, then set her tray on the table top and sat down next to him. She leaned forward, put her elbows on the table, and rested her chin on her hands. Her attitude was that of one who plans to stay somewhere for a good long while. Nonplused, Depth Charge asked, "Ah, don't you need to work?"

"I'm on break."

"Uh..."

"Listen, sweetie, you need someone to talk to. An' I got the feeling that right now, I'm the only one in this whole stinkin' galaxy who fills that bill. So," she concluded in a businesslike tone, "you're gonna talk to me, or else."

"Or else what?" he asked, humoring her threat.

"Or..." her voice trailed off before she continued, "I'll tell the boss you got me pregnant."

If Depth Charge had actually swallowed any of his drink, he would've choked on it. "That's not even possible!"

She grinned wickedly. "Yeah, but he don't know that. So talk." He hesitated, fidgeted uncomfortably...then, finally, he gave in.

He told her everything.

The words poured out of him like water, as though a dam had burst inside him. Depth Charge hadn't strung so many words together since he'd left Omicron; he might never have talked so much in his entire life.

Kyla listened with rapt attention, her silence only broken by the occasional gasp or low whistle. Finally, his story told, he sat with his hands clasped before him and his head lowered, staring at the table top, seeing nothing.

"Wow," Kyla said at last; her tone was hushed, almost awed. "Sheesh, hon, I knew you were carryin' something inside, but this..." Her voice faded, and she looked uneasy. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything." He raised his head, and met her eyes with his glowing red optics. "Thanks," he said finally. "Thanks for listening."

She shrugged, and gave him a fond smile. "No problem. Guess you really needed it." Her face grew distant. "Maybe that's all some folks need...is just someone to listen."

Then Kyla seemed to snap out of her reverie. "Look, I better get back to work."

Depth Charge nodded. "Go ahead. Don't want you to get in trouble."

"Oh, I been in trouble all my life, hon," she assured, winking. She slid across the seat and picked up her tray. Before she left, she asked, "Walk me home again?"

"Um..." Depth Charge began. But seeing a flicker of hurt on her face at his hesitation, he quickly added, "Sure."

"Great!" Without warning, she leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "You're my good friend, Depth Charge," she teased. He only blinked in astonishment as she sauntered off, tray in hand. The bar was starting to fill up, as a group of three heavily-clothed individuals walked in, and seated themselves at a table...

...something clicked in Depth Charge's mind.

He lowered his head, grasping his drink in both hands, pretending to gaze into its depths as he said quietly, "Computer. Run a full sensor sweep of the area."

ACKNOWLEDGED, the internal voice replied, imperturbable as always. SCANNING NOW. Depth Charge watched the data roll by on his internal monitors. Distinct bleeps went off as the computer scanned three of the bar's tables, situated at roughly equal distance around the room. Each table had exactly three individuals, and each individual was of the same species.

Maximal.

Well, well.

Depth Charge wasn't even surprised when a final set of three walked through the door, stopped and looked around, then headed straight for him. He watched them out of the corner of his eye, pretending not to notice. They stopped at his table and stood surrounding it, penning him in. Depth Charge still didn't look at them, but he got a quick glimpse of Kyla freezing in place as she stocked her tray with drinks, her eyes narrowing.

Not wanting to direct his visitors' attention to her, Depth Charge picked his drink up and spoke. "Already gave at the office, thanks."

This seemed to confuse them. The two flanking figures looked at the central one as if waiting for instructions. He hesitated, his yellow optics barely visible beneath the shadowing brim of his ridiculous floppy hat. Finally, he said, "Former Security Chief Depth Charge?"

"Who wants to know?"

"CAN I GET YOU BOYS A DRINK?"

The trio jumped as Kyla's brassy voice cut through the bar chatter like a laser scalpel. They whirled to face her, the two on the outside reaching inside their ratty trenchcoats, but the central figure laid his hands on their arms to restrain them. "No, thank you," he emphasized firmly.

Kyla twisted her mouth in a sneer, and her reply showed a distinct lack of delicacy. "YOU SURE??"

"Yes!" he hissed, clearly trying to quiet her. The other Maximal threesomes were watching the scene with obvious tension, and the bar patrons were starting to stare. "I'm sure!"

Kyla met Depth Charge's gaze. "These jerks botherin' you?"

Before any of the trio could answer, Depth Charge replied, "No. Go on. I'll be all right."

She didn't look convinced. "Sure?"

The figure on the left snapped. "He said go," and grabbed Kyla's arm. Immediately, Depth Charge jumped to his feet, optics slitting dangerously. "Get your slagging hand off her!" Kyla hissed and pulled away as the rightmost figure drew a weapon...

"ENOUGH!" Everyone froze as a fourth individual strode towards the table, shedding his disguise as he came, revealing himself as Cybertronian beyond any doubt. His shaggy white-furred armor sections attested to his organic-style beast mode; combined with his bulky frame and bronze belt and helmet, they gave him the look of a barbarian warlord. But the ice-blue optics in his steel-colored face shone with frigid intelligence, and his voice was that of someone used to being obeyed.

"Put your weapons down. That's an order."

His associates complied as Kyla yanked her arm free with a muttered curse. Depth Charge remained standing, and locked optics with the newcomer, who returned his glare as he spoke to the fuming waitress. "Apologies for the disturbance, ma'am," he said coldly, not looking at her. "We'll take care of this. Go on about your business."

"Stick it up your afterburner, freak," she spat. This surprised him enough to finally look directly at her, but before anyone could say any more, Depth Charge said, "It's all right."

She gave him a concerned look, while the two flanking Maximals fidgeted uncomfortably, as though all this definitely hadn't been in their briefing. At last, she conceded, "OK. But remember what I said about trouble, hon." I've been in it all my life. In other words, she wouldn't mind getting in it again now...

Finally, she gave the one who'd grabbed her an obscene gesture, then hoisted her tray and stormed off. The usual hubbub of voices began to fill the bar again as the clientele returned to their own affairs, satisfied the show was over. Depth Charge and the large newcomer stared each other down before the latter slowly lowered himself into a chair. Depth Charge carefully did the same on his side of the table. The other three Maximals remained standing at watchful attention.

The white-and-bronze mechanoid spoke first. "Commander Steeltrap." If his introduction was meant to impress the other, it failed spectacularly.

Depth Charge growled, "You and your boys pull that slag again, I'll use your core processor for a hood ornament."

Steeltrap only gave a cold smile. "Good to see chivalry isn't dead."

"So what brings you here? Just stop by to harass the staff?"

"Hardly." His tone turned stiff and officious. "Former Security Chief Depth Charge..."

"We did that part already," the other interrupted.

Steeltrap continued, unfazed, "By the authority vested in me by the High Council, in the name of the Pax Cybertronia, I hereby place you under arrest."

Depth Charge knew the routine; he'd been on the other end of it often enough. "On what charge?" he asked, merely as a formality.

"Theft of a Starhopper, theft of classified scanning equipment, failure to comply with official summons, disobedience of direct orders, dereliction of duty..."

Depth Charge lifted his drink and swirled it one last time. "You forgot 'littering'."

The other froze in mid-spiel. "...What?"

Very deliberately, Depth Charge raised his drink in his left hand, then extended his arm towards the obviously confused mechanoid on that side. He held the glass out for a moment, then casually opened his hand and let it drop. It hit the floor and shattered, spilling liquid everywhere; the sharp sound of breaking glass cut through the room, distracting the guards just long enough...

In one fluid motion, Depth Charge gripped the table's edge with both hands and spun sideways, kicking the left-most Maximal square in the jaw. In the same movement, he heaved the table into the faces of Steeltrap and his other two comrades. They stumbled backwards as Depth Charge gathered his legs beneath him and leaped over his attackers, landing two-footed with a heavy thud. Then he hauled off a spin-kick that nailed Steeltrap in the side before he could even turn around.

All across the room, the other disguised Cybertronians shed their bulky clothing and drew weapons. Many of the patrons shrieked, swore, or pulled guns of their own. However, the bartender only heaved a long-suffering sigh and ducked out of sight.

Depth Charge whirled around as one of the approaching soldiers was clonked over the head by an irate tray-wielding saurian. "Go!" Kyla snapped, slamming the now-dented tray into another's face. "Get outta here!"

The two soldiers stumbled away, holding head and face respectively, as Depth Charge grabbed Kyla's forearm and ordered, "You get out too!"

She opened her mouth to protest, but before she could speak, Depth Charge turned and offhandedly clobbered another attacker. Then he urged: "Don't argue. And don't go home; they might follow you. Understand?" She hesitated, then nodded, her tray claiming yet another victim as she turned. Then she sprinted past the blathering Torqulon (who didn't seem to notice there was a brawl on) and vanished through the staff exit.

Depth Charge made sure she'd escaped, then drove an elbow into the throat of a soldier, sending him staggering off and gagging. The unfortunate being was then set upon by the two Pavonians, who were outraged at having their evening ruined. Depth Charge sidestepped the hissing, spitting bundle and ducked a thrown bottle, which shattered against the mirror behind the bar. Then, without warning, he was tackled by a white blur, and slammed against the bar with such force that it cracked in half.

The cowering bartender yelled in protest and scrambled away. Depth Charge fought to free himself as Steeltrap and two other Maximals pinned him down, their commander struggling to get a pair of energy-binders on his wildly resisting target.

"Steeltrap..." Depth Charge hissed as he landed a kick straight to the midsection of an assailant. "Wondered if...ungh! You'd have the...guts to get involved...!" He thrashed his body from side to side, trying to free himself from the pair holding his shoulders down.

Slowly, relentlessly, Steeltrap forced Depth Charge's wrists together, fighting to get the cuffs on him. "Don't...ngh...EVER...question my courage...renegade!!" he snarled, finally managing to snap the cuffs into place with an audible clack. The energy bonds snapped on, sending flickering bolts of energy running between Depth Charge's hands. Steeltrap stood back, breathing hard, apparently satisfied that he'd won.

However, Depth Charge only clenched his fists together and swung them up, cuffs and all, striking Steeltrap under the chin with such force that it seemed his head should have gone sailing from his body. As the Maximal commander toppled backwards, Depth Charge lunged to his feet and dispatched the soldier to his left with an elbow-thrust to the midsection, then the one on the right with a head-butt to the forehead.

Darting his gaze around the room, he saw that the other soldiers were all either incapacitated or busy fighting off Rengoe's clientele, who were never the type to let a good brawl pass them by. He raced towards the exit, deliberately failing to avoid the fallen Steeltrap, who gave an outraged wheeze as the larger Maximal's foot planted itself in his stomach. Depth Charge burst through the door onto the street. He could hear approaching sirens over the din of the brawl; the planet's miserable security was finally on its way. But the rest of the foggy street was deserted, except for...

His optics snapped wide with horror.

"No..."

A figure stood at the end of the street, a shape out of his nightmares.

The huge mechanoid held a limp form in his arms. He held her up with one hand, lifting her without the slightest effort, and began to laugh.

"No..."

He yanked a wispy scarf from around his victim's neck, then let it drop...it drifted to the ground in the faint breeze as his laughter grew louder...

"NO!!" Depth Charge broke free from his stunned paralysis and stumbled into a run...

"Ungh!!" He let out a sharp grunt as he was tackled from behind, and multiple figures piled on top of him, pinning him down. "Get off! Get OFF!!" Then he gave an animal snarl of rage as a stun beam hit him at point-blank rage--his sensors were swimming, the world was going dark--he heard a distorted voice saying, "Again! Hit him again!" There was another blast--his head hit the cold concrete, the world went dark...

...and X was gone.

"I said, wake UP, traitor!"

A punch in the face was Depth Charge's first sensation as he woke. He groaned as he gradually returned to consciousness. The first thing he saw was the glowering Steeltrap slowly lowering his fist. "Slag," Depth Charge muttered, "What a way to wake up."

"You'd be amazed at how little I care about your welfare, renegade," the other snapped. "Ten of my soldiers need repairs, thanks to you and your low-life friends."

With a rush of horror, Depth Charge remembered the last thing he'd seen before his capture. X! Kyla! He tried to leap to his feet, but was brutally yanked back by the energy-bonds holding him to the wall.

Steeltrap had instinctively jumped back--as had a smaller figure half-hidden in shadow behind him--but now he stepped forward again. "Save your energy," he ordered. "You're not going anywhere."

"Listen to me, slaghead," Depth Charge snarled. "You've gotta let me go..."

"I already told you, you're not going anywh..."

"LISTEN TO ME!! X...he's taken someone, he'll kill her...!"

A gray Maximal with a blue helmet stepped out of the shadows, his expression concerned. "X?" he repeated, as though he knew what the term meant but hadn't expected to hear it.

Steeltrap waved him off. "Don't concern yourself. My forces are on the freak's trail right now."

"Oh, great," Depth Charge sneered, dripping sarcasm. "I feel better already. You slagging idiot," he continued, his voice growing in intensity, "Let me get to my ship. I have scanners there, I can track X's spark...!"

"You mean these scanners?" He snapped his fingers, and an aide brought forth an armful of complex-looking equipment. "The ones you stole when you turned traitor? Oh yes, I know what they're for," Steeltrap went on, overriding Depth Charge's attempted protests. "Once we get them going, we'll have X in no time."

"Right," Depth Charge spat, clenching his fists. "And I'm Optimus Prime." The gray-plated Maximal gave him a funny look at that, but didn't speak. Then he turned away, and moved towards Steeltrap and the technician, who was attempting to start the equipment, without any visible success.

"Sir," he began, "Maybe we should let Depth Charge go. I understand he has experience tracking Protoform X..."

"Experience losing him, you mean." Depth Charge tensed at this, but didn't speak. While his captors were distracted, he busied himself with his restraints. The bonds couldn't be broken, but the wall they were attached to was as rundown as anything else on this planet...

"Will this be much longer?" Steeltrap barked at the technician, who was still fussing with the equipment. The other looked up and protested, "Sir, removing them from their power source has left them non-functional..."

"Then hook them up to another source! This building has power, doesn't it?" He gestured impatiently to the overhead lights.

"Yes, sir, but that limits us to this location. If X is out of range, we'll never find him..."

"Could they be hooked up to a Maximal's own scanners?" the third individual asked, his optics narrowing as he thought. Everyone was ignoring the prisoner behind them, which was just the way he wanted it. He started digging his hands into the rusted metal of the wall.

"Nice thought, Optimus, but we don't have the equipment for that kind of work." Steeltrap waved his hand dismissively. "Without the proper circuit dampeners, it'd be like having major surgery without anesthesia. Doesn't sound like fun, does it?" No one answered. There was a faint creaking sound, and three heads turned back to the far wall...

However, they were too late. Shards of metal went flying as Depth Charge tore free with a roar of rage. Steeltrap reacted quickly, but not quickly enough. As he lunged for the blaster at his hip, Depth Charge snatched up a nearby weapon and aimed it directly at the head of the self-styled Optimus. "Move and you're dead," he rasped, his voice low and deadly.

The gray Maximal raised his hands in surrender as the technician did the same. However, Steeltrap was unmoved. "Kill a fellow Maximal? You wouldn't go that far," he retorted.

"I'm a 'renegade', remember? I'm capable of anything. Now put...the...gun... down."

"Sir," the technician said nervously as he raised his trembling hands higher, "M-maybe we should do what he...?"

"Shut up." Grudgingly, Steeltrap crouched and laid his weapon on the floor, never taking his gaze from Depth Charge or his unwilling hostage.

"Now kick it away. Do it!" He pressed his weapon's barrel harder against his captive's head. "Or 'Optimus' here gets to meet the original in person." The Maximal in question said nothing, but kept his arms up, his face and body tense and angry.

"This isn't necessary, Depth Charge," he began. "We're all on the same side..."

"Not any more." Depth Charge watched as Steeltrap kicked the gun, sending it spinning across the metal floor. "Not since your precious High Council turned my colony into a scrapyard."

Optimus looked startled at that, and turned his gaze to Steeltrap. "What's he talking about?"

"Don't listen to him," the commander snapped, hands clenched into fists at his sides. "This lunatic blames the Council for his own failure."

Depth Charge refused to be baited, and gestured to his hostage. "Bring me those scanners. Now!"

Primal complied, slowly moving to the work station as the technician fell all over himself getting out of the way. Steeltrap only watched the action with a predatory patience, twisting his face in a sneer.

"That's why you ran, isn't it, traitor?" he spat.

"Call me that again and I'll send you head-first into the Pit." Primal gathered up the small unit with its dangling cables and wires. "Bring that here," Depth Charge continued. "Move it, move it!" Every micro-second these idiots delayed him could cost Kyla her life...

Steeltrap, however, continued relentlessly, "Oh, yes, the Elders told me all ABOUT you." His laugh was an ugly thing. "You were assigned to the Protoform X project..."

Depth Charge whipped the gun in Steeltrap's direction, snatching the scanners away from Primal, who immediately backpedaled out of grabbing range. "That's a lie!"

"You failed to guard him, that's why he escaped..."

"That's a slagging LIE!!" he roared, stepping forward till the gun was inches from Steeltrap's face.

"And I should believe you?" the other bellowed in return, actually leaning forward, heedless of his own safety as he boiled over with righteous outrage. "I should take the word of a renegade over my own government's? You're everything I hate in this universe! You'd tear down everything I stand for, everything I believe...!!"

There was a tense silence, broken by hard breathing as the two warriors stared each other down. Finally, Depth Charge spoke, his voice a low growl. "The High Council's got you snowed, Steeltrap. Better start thinking for yourself or you'll wind up on X's menu, too."

With that, he slowly circled towards the exit, never taking his optics from the Maximal commander, who demanded, "What are you planning to do with that?" He indicated the scanners. "We've got every hangar and spaceport locked down, you'll never get to a ship..."

"I'll improvise." His tone was flat, emotionless. "It's not like you left me a choice." With that, he rammed his elbow into the controls for the heavy door, which obediently ground open. As he backed out, he raised the blaster and fired round after round into the interior's ceiling.

The Maximals inside yelled in shock, and two of them ducked for cover as the third leaped for his gun. The shots penetrated the dilapidated structure's roof beams, bringing the whole thing down in a hail of debris.

Depth Charge stood and surveyed his handiwork. "Computer, scan for Maximal energy signatures," he ordered.

THREE MAXIMAL ENERGY SIGNATURES DETECTED, the computer replied.

"Good." At least they weren't dead. It would have been easier for him if they were, of course. But that was a line he wasn't willing to cross...not yet. He lifted the scanners in one hand, then grimly observed to no one in particular, "Time to improvise."

The alien bartender gave a melodramatic sigh as he leaned against the bar with one hand, wiped his brow with another, picked up his mop with a third, and popped open a beverage can with a fourth. This had been quite a brawl even by Rengoe's standards. And of course, someone always got stuck cleaning up the mess...

Someone burst in through the front door, not even slowed down by the restraints the security officers had placed over it. The imposing figure turned sharply and headed for the bar without a moment's hesitation. The bartender barely had the presence of mind to yelp, "We're closed!" before cringing away in terror.

The large mechanoid paid him no mind as he strode up to the bar (or what remained of it), darted his gaze across the shelves, and demanded, "Give me those." He pointed to a pair of large bottles on the bottom shelf.

These were opaque black, marked with a vaguely skull-like emblem, and featured warning labels written in almost every language in the galaxy. The bartender had only ever poured a single drink from one of these, and that had been for a despondent customer seeking the nastiest possible means of suicide. However, the grim ferocity on this one's face precluded any argument, so he picked the bottles up and handed them over, shuddering as he did.

"Thanks. Put it on my tab." He began to stride around the bar, back towards the staff area. "You got a storeroom I can use?"

"Er, y-yes, right back there. B-but, er,"--he felt he should make at least some token query--"m-may I ask why you want...?"

The other turned and fixed him with a look that made him wish he'd never been born. "You don't want to know." Then he shouldered open the staff door and stormed out of sight.

The bartender hesitated a moment more. Then he flung up all his hands, grabbed a second beverage can, and headed for home.

The storeroom was ideal for Depth Charge's purpose. It had a chair, a workbench...and thick, heavy, sound-muffling walls.

How do you drink without a mouth?

How do you do lots of things?

Balance would be critical. He needed enough of the stuff to allow him to do what was he was planning; but not so much that he botched the job or passed out. Or killed himself outright, of course.

What are you planning to do with that?

You wouldn't go that far...

The sickly yellow light from above cast discolored shadows as he arranged the equipment on the bench beside him. Depth Charge hesitated. His chest rose and fell, once. Then his optics narrowed as he reached up to his left shoulder. He dug his fingers into the metal and pulled it away a few centimeters, grunting slightly, more from shock than actual pain.

The pain would come soon enough.

He clenched the chair's arm tightly in his left hand, grabbing one of the black bottles in the other. Popping it open with his thumb, he lifted it up to the seam. Then his jawline tensed noticeably as he poured it in.

"Ssshhhtt!!" Depth Charge couldn't hold back a hiss of pain as his optics squinted nearly shut. Wisps of white smoke rose from his shoulder as the potent liquid made contact with his internal circuits. But, just as he'd hoped, the area quickly went an unpleasant kind of numb. Then, he transferred the bottle to his left hand and held it up near the wound as he dug in with the other.

He pulled down, slowly bending the entire top portion of his chestplate further and further open. As he did, he gradually poured more and more of the liquid. His optics were stinging as a sickly warmth and foul taste clouded the inside of his head. There was starting to be fuel leakage, now, but he'd expected that. It mixed with the foreign substance, hissing and bubbling as more steam began to rise. He could see inside himself, now; see the wires and circuits and flashing lights that no conscious Cybertronian should ever have been privy to.

Finally, he stopped pulling. Nearly one-third of his chest was open. His hand shaking slightly, he set the bottle down on the bench and grabbed the main part of the scanning equipment. The fuel was coming more heavily than he'd anticipated; he could feel the warm, sticky liquid trickling down his side, down his leg.

Better get moving, he thought, feeling almost clinically detached, as though this were all happening to someone else, or some inanimate object he had no feelings for at all. Wouldn't be good to shut down, now, would it?

He began to undo his internal wiring. A few lights went dead as he pulled wires free from their housings, then began to splice them to the scanners. His hand slipped, something broke that shouldn't have, and a spurt of fuel came forth. "Slag," he observed, more annoyed than alarmed. Fumbling for the bottle, he poured it on the break, sending up a hissing burst of steam that clouded his optics.

It felt like the insides of his head were melting, now...everything was going blurry, vague. Not yet. Not yet. As quickly as possible, he finished the re-wiring and slapped the device into place. It began to hum softly as he bolted it tight; that was good. At least it was working. There were several long wires trailing from it; he slung them over his shoulder like a bandolier.

Then he began to bend his chestplate back into place, the metal protesting as it was abused a second time. He forced it almost completely shut, but left a slight open seam for the wires to emerge. Hopefully none of the breaks he'd caused would generate any sparks; if they did, the chemicals would ignite and set his entire chest cavity on fire. Now THERE'S a vivid thought.

Rushing waves of heat pulsed through his circuits. His hand was quivering badly now; and his fury at his own perceived weakness only added to the problem. Not yet. One last thing. He traced a line along the side of his neck with his right index finger as he held the dangling wires up against his shoulders with his left. He was sitting in a puddle of his own fuel now. This...won't be easy, he realized, light-headedness threatening to overcome him.

He lifted the bottle one last time, paused, set it down again.

He gathered his will, head clearing slightly as he grew strangely calm.

One last thing.

Depth Charge reached for his neck.

He dug in.

He pulled.

You wouldn't go that far...

...that far...

He almost screamed.

Far beneath the city, there were tunnels and warrens unknown to most sentient life-forms. Strewn with rubble and garbage, dripping with moisture, these places were frequented only by the lowest and most desperate of creatures; those with exceptionally compelling reasons not to be found. In one of these distant sub-levels was a small, multi-roomed complex; it had probably been a housing unit once, and had been buried and built over by the newer parts of the city. In this place was a dingy, cramped, featureless room.

And in this room, X and Kyla faced each other in silence.

Of course, the female didn't have a choice, as her beak-mouth was tied shut. She was bound with heavy cable to a rickety metal chair, with her arms strapped to the back. Her legs were tied to those of the chair, along with her tail, which was bound particularly well...X was nobody's fool. There was a leaking cut above her right eye.

A single white light glared down from above, illuminating the space between them but leaving the rest of the room lost in darkness. X was seated in another chair, which was ridiculously small for him. He'd turned it backwards and leaned over the top almost casually, his arms wrapped around the back and his legs splayed out to either side. He regarded his prisoner with an unblinking gaze, and she turned away, refusing to look at him.

Then he reached forward, his movement cutting shadows through the harsh light. She flinched involuntarily. X ran his finger along the side of her face, coating its tip in her leaking fuel. Kyla shook her head violently and made a negative-sounding noise, but he paid her no mind. He looked at the fuel on his finger for a moment. Then he put it in his mouth, running it experimentally around the inside of his cheeks.

"Mmm," he observed, his tone suggesting that he found it neither here nor there. "You drink more than you should, I think," he chided.

Kyla struggled against her bonds with renewed ferocity, making muffled but distinctly angry sounds. "What was that?" X asked politely. "I couldn't understand you. Here," he continued, leaning forward again as Kyla jerked her head away. "Perhaps this will help."

As her gag was removed, she took a deep, gasping breath. Then she half-snarled, half-screamed, "YOU...!!" This was followed by a truly impressive profanity-laced tirade which called into question his ancestry, his personal hygiene, and his sexual preferences. Then she moved on to the obscene, the blasphemous, and the physically impossible, sometimes all at the same time. Finally, struggling so forcefully that the chair rocked, she concluded with, "Let me go! LET ME GO, you...! You...!!"

All the things she wanted to call him at once collided in her mind and canceled each other out, leaving her with nothing. Her chest heaved as her body shook with helpless rage, and she grew silent.

X didn't so much as flicker an optic at all this. "Finished?" Since she didn't reply as her breathing grew quieter and her head slumped forward, he observed, "Good." Kyla raised her head again, as her furious expression began to slacken, and she fought to hold back tears.

This didn't escape X's notice. "Ah, good!" he said. "Anger and rage are tasty, but not nearly as delectable as fear." He gave her a sly look. "Allowing the former to expend themselves often allows the latter to take precedence. Or so I've found."

Humiliated, Kyla realized he'd played her like a musical instrument. And worse than that, he was right: she was afraid. No, she was terrified, more so than she'd ever been in her life. She'd never felt so helpless, or so alone.

He then checked his internal chronometers. "Well, I think I've been more than fair," he remarked. At that, he rose from his chair, which creaked audibly as it was relieved of his weight. He slowly stalked around the periphery of the darkness till he stood behind his captive, who forced herself to keep looking straight ahead.

X waited for several agonizing moments, then leaned forward till his face was very close to the side of her head. When he spoke, his voice was a throaty purr. "We can begin any time, I think."

Suddenly, he grabbed her right arm in his fist with such force that she squawked loudly. He yanked it free from its bonds, and pulled it straight back. Kyla hissed and struggled with all her strength, shouting, "Stop it!!" X only laughed aloud and wrenched her arm around in circles, as if he were turning a crank. "Round and round and round we go..." he chanted, laughing out loud. The shoulder joint snapped, and she couldn't hold back a scream...

Suddenly he stopped and dropped her arm, which flopped lifelessly against the back of the chair. He gave a surprised-sounding "Hrrmm?" as Kyla hissed and tried to move her damaged limb. She managed to twitch her fingers feebly as X rose to his full height. Then he began to move around the room, darting his head to and fro.

"It...!" He sounded genuinely astonished. "It can't be! How did you manage to...?"

Kyla tried to pull her wits together and take advantage of her tormentor's distraction. Cursing herself silently for her own weakness, feeling like her arm was about to drop off, she struggled to grasp the bonds that held the other.

Meanwhile, X's tone changed to one of grudging respect. "Well, well. I give you credit, old friend." Kyla's head whipped up at this, and her eyes went wide with a hope she barely let herself feel. But she quickly turned back to her work, claws working frantically at the taut cables.

X went on: "You're more resourceful than I'd thought." The cable snapped, and her left hand was free.

"And my, you are angry." She flexed her wrist sharply.

"I think I'd sense you coming even were I not empathic." Her energon blade dropped into her waiting palm.

"Still, it's a pity your efforts will be for nothing." The flickering white blade sprang to life.

"That will upset you even more, I imagine." X shook his head as if in genuine sympathy and turned back, chuckling. "Now, where were w...?"

His voice trailed off at a puzzling sensation, and his mouth moved with inarticulate confusion. "Whaa...?"

X looked down to where the female stood before him, her arm extended, her hand buried to the wrist in his chest. He barely took notice of the fact that she'd freed herself; he focused only on what was going on deep inside. It burned...it was burning him, it was hurting him...

A twisted, feral snarl crossed the face of his intended victim. She brutally yanked out whatever she'd stabbed him with. "Huurph!" X made a sick noise as he stepped back. He held his hand over the wound, which was small, but deep, and leaking a steady stream of fuel. Now he could see the female's weapon, which glowed like a small star.

X gasped aloud. An energon blade! The rational, scientific part of his mind was fascinated, even as his more bestial nature roared in silent fury. Such a blade could destroy a spark, even...

He froze. Even...my own.

Never, in his entire existence, had he thought of this before. He couldn't die. That was a given, an absolute, an irrefutable law of nature. He was Protoform X, heir to Starscream's immortality, the indestructible spark...he couldn't die...

Barely aware that his captive was backing around him, looking for an exit, he held his trembling hand before his face, staring at the unimaginable sight of his own fuel coating his fingertips...

...as, without the slightest warning, the wall exploded behind him.

X instinctively pitched himself forward as the female let out a yell and curled up into a protective ball, turning her armored shoulders towards the blast. Acrid smoke filled the air as the roar of the blast died away, replaced by the clank and clatter of settling debris.

Protoform X shook his head and rose unsteadily to his feet. As he did, he could see the horrified face of his former captive, hear her swallow audibly. What puzzled him, however, was that she wasn't looking at him.

He turned back towards what had once been a wall...and imitated her gulp with one of his own.

There was a figure standing amidst the wreckage, backlit by a hellish glow. He was supporting himself against one wall, shoulders curled inward and head lowered. But this somehow made him look more dangerous, not less, as though he were some half-bestial creature hungry for blood. Frayed wires hung from his neck, back and shoulders. His plating was spattered and streaked with fuel and some reeking black liquid. Then the apparition raised his head partway and spoke, his rasping voice more animal than sentient...

"Computer...wwwhere is he?"

It must have answered him, as his head snapped up with such a savage glare that Protoform X actually took a step back. As the smoke began to clear, X heard a female voice weakly ask, "D-Depth Charge? Is that...?"

X's optics were round with shock. Then his expression almost softened as he shook his head sorrowfully and whispered, "Oh, my friend. What have you done to yourself?"

Depth Charge dragged himself forward, moving like a reanimated corpse freshly dug from its grave. Spitting out a word with every step, he snarled, "Don't...call...me... your...slagging...FRIEND!!"

With a deafening roar, he lunged for X's throat, his weapon forgotten in sheer mindless bloodlust. They toppled over, Kyla scrambling out of the way as they tumbled through the wreckage. The entire room shook as they slammed into a wall, and X finally recovered his presence of mind enough to fight back. He flung his attacker off, and Depth Charge went flying into another wall, once again causing the place to vibrate dangerously. Crazy shadows from the swaying light raced around the walls as more debris showered down on them all.

Depth Charge shook his head as if trying to clear it while X rose painfully to his feet. Then Kyla called, "Depth Charge! Catch!" and tossed him her weapon. He snatched it out of the air, then snapped it on, the white light of the blade piercing the darkness where he stood.

Then he lunged for X again, who sidestepped and brought his clenched fists down on his attacker's back, sending him crashing to the ground. But this barely slowed him for an instant, as he whipped around and made a violent upward slash, laying open X's torso from one side to the other.

"HHRRRAARRGGHH!!" The monstrous being roared in agony and stumbled away, crashing against yet another wall. He struggled to hold himself upright with one arm while he grasped his sparking wound with another, wheezing in pain. Depth Charge forced himself to stand, swaying badly. His gaze met his mortal enemy's, and the rage in those crimson optics was beyond all thought, all reason...

X looked at him, looked at Kyla, looked at himself. He quite rationally decided to let discretion be the better part of valor. "Another time...old playmate..." he panted. As Depth Charge advanced one final time, X slammed both his fists into a vertical support beam, cracking it in two.

Immediately, the rain of debris turned into a hailstorm as the entire place started collapsing. Kyla yelled and raised her good arm protectively over her head, then cried out as a huge beam came down on her, pinning her to the ground.

Depth Charge glanced back at her, his murderous expression giving way to alarm. He briefly looked back at X, who only shrugged as if to say, What can you do? Then Depth Charge raced towards Kyla, grunting slightly as he lifted the beam off her. Growing more unsteady by the moment, he flung the beam aside and helped Kyla to rise. His voice sounded normal again as he insisted, "Come on...let's get out of here..."

Kyla groaned, leaning against him for support as she mumbled, "Wh...what about...?"

But as they both looked towards where X had been, they saw nothing but falling debris and the emptiness beyond. "What a surprise," Depth Charge muttered, staggering slightly as he helped her forward. As quickly as their battered exostructures would permit, they raced from the disintegrating room, dashing through tunnels and cavernous spaces. They were followed close behind by an expanding cloud of dust as level after level crashed away behind them. Finally, they made it to the surface, and threw themselves to earth as an enormous sinkhole grew behind them, like the birth of a new black hole. Finally, the thunderous noise died away, and everything grew quiet.

Depth Charge and Kyla struggled to their feet. A few sounds made themselves heard; a barking canid, voices yelling in concern and alarm as Ktulu-7's residents roused themselves from sleep and looked out their windows. The pair of mechanoids stumbled wearily off, around a corner and away from curious onlookers. The large male stopped, leaned back against a wall, then slowly sank to the ground. The smaller female grabbed up a rag from a trash pile with her one working arm, and began to dab at his wounds.

"You...dumbass!" she almost sobbed, looking like she couldn't decide whether to hug him or punch him in the jaw. "What'd you do a crazy thing like that for? Huh?" He didn't reply; his visual sensors seemed to be going blurry. "You could've been killed, you..."

Her voice trailed off as she sniffed the air with a suspicious expression. "Have you been DRINKING?" she demanded, incredulous.

"Not...exactly..." His head swayed slightly. "Mind if I...pass out now...?" He asked, his tone apologetic.

Kyla could only gape at him. Then she closed her eyes, shook her head, and gave a slightly giddy grin. "Nah, go ahead, hon. I'd say you earned it."

"Thanks..." He said nothing more as his head drooped low over his dented and leaking chest, and the light in his optics flickered and went out.

Depth Charge had thought that he'd already experienced the worst headache of his life. He was wrong.

His own painful moan seemed loud enough to make his head explode. The light that met his optics appeared abnormally bright, and the inside of his head felt like it'd become home to an entire swarm of Insecticons. He could hear arguing voices, and was just about to tell them to shut the Pit up when he recognized them.

"You can't arrest him! He saved my life!"

"That may be true, ma'am," replied a stiff voice. "But he's still a wanted fugitive. I have my duty."

"Oh yeah? Well, why don't you take your stinkin' duty and shove it up your big, fat, hairy...!"

"Kyla!" Depth Charge interrupted the conversation as he sat bolt upright. His head immediately informed him of what a bad idea this had been, and he fought to keep his optics from crossing as he swayed back and forth. "Save your voice box," he continued, concentrating very hard on remaining upright. He was seated on a long work table in what appeared to be a repair bay.

"Well, look who's awake," Steeltrap sneered, as Kyla rushed over to her rescuer's side. Her right arm was functioning again, and she used it to give him a brief, fervent hug. The Maximal commander went on: "You should be grateful we repaired you at all. Believe me, I'd gladly watch you leak to death."

Depth Charge reached for his shoulder and neck, realizing that the seams had been closed. "You didn't take the scanners out, did you?" he demanded.

"No, just cleaned up that hatchet job you did on yourself. But don't worry, we'll get you into a CR chamber...in prison!"

Kyla glowered at the commander as another Maximal approached the scene. His sullen expression was made almost comical by the fact that his helmet was severely dented, and his left antenna was bent down at a forlorn angle. Depth Charge only observed rather blithely, "How's it goin', Optimus?" His tone made it quite clear what he thought of the other's chosen name.

"I'm still around," he said stiffly, crossing his arms across his chest. "No thanks to you."

Depth Charge only shrugged as Steeltrap continued. "Yes, we'll be sure and add three counts of assault to your arrest record." He rubbed his hands together greedily. "My ship's got room for just one more 'Bot, renegade, and you're it...!"

Her tone odd, Kyla quietly asked, "One more, huh?"

All optics turned to her, as most of those present had almost forgotten she was there. Steeltrap couldn't be bothered to answer, but Optimus asked, "What do you mean by that, Miss...uh..."

She didn't take the invitation to introduce herself. Looking back at Depth Charge, she said, "That freakoid X'll come after me again, huh." It wasn't a question.

Depth Charge could see where she was going with this. "Yeah," he said, respecting her too much to lie to spare her feelings. "He will." He looked up at Steeltrap and Optimus, who both seemed mystified. "Unless somebody can guarantee your safety."

"That's absurd," the white-furred Maximal snapped. "You're not staying, and I can't post an army here to insure the safety of one...waitress!"

Depth Charge clenched his fists and struggled to rise from the table. But Optimus headed him off with a raised hand, looking back at Steeltrap and saying, "Sir, this is a Maximal concern. I'd say we're honor bound to keep her safe from X."

"But...!"

"She could come with us to Cybertron," the other went on relentlessly, "If she were to formally request asylum." He gave Kyla a significant look.

She turned her face to Depth Charge, a question in her eyes, and he slowly nodded. "That's the one place X'll never go. You'd be safe there."

"Fine," she said eventually, shoulders slumping as she gave a heavy sigh. "I 'formally request asylum'." Then she fixed Steeltrap with a narrow-eyed glare. "But only if you let Depth Charge go. Otherwise I stay. Get it?"

"But...!" Steeltrap started again.

"Better think about it," Depth Charge observed nonchalantly. "Wouldn't be good to have an innocent bystander's death on your record, would it...slaghead?"

Optimus looked as if he were fighting back a chuckle. His commander, meanwhile, seemed ready to detonate before their very eyes. "Fine!" he spat. "She comes, you stay. But," he continued, his ice-blue optics flashing cold fire, "Soon as we dump her on Cybertron, I'm coming back for you. So you better get moving, renegade, 'cause next time I see you, your afterburners are mine."

With that, he ordered Kyla, "Be at docking bay 94 at 0700 hours," then whirled and stormed from the repair bay as if a steel girder had been forcefully shoved up his backside.

Optimus shook his head sadly as he watched him go. Then he turned back to Depth Charge, who grudgingly acknowledged, "Guess I owe you one."

"That's right. You do." They locked optics briefly, then the smaller Maximal turned to follow his commander from the room. His amused voice drifted back over his shoulder: "I'll give you two some time alone."

"Uh..." Depth Charge wanted to explain how that wasn't the way things were between them, but Kyla only snickered and winked at him. His expression sagged as he raised his hand to his head, then laid back on the table with a genuinely pained groan.

Ktulu-7's weak sun seemed to be struggling to rise as Depth Charge and Kyla headed for the docking bay. She held her battered satchel over one arm, filled with the only possessions she'd had time to pack. Around her neck was one of her pastel scarves, which she tugged at nervously with her free hand.

"Guess I didn't really need this," she admitted. She stopped walking, and looked at the ground. "Now what do I do?" she asked, her voice unusually subdued.

Depth Charge ached at seeing her so downcast. "You'll be all right. Trust me." She raised her eyes to his, looking skeptical. He continued, "I know a place in the Newsted district that could really use a good waitress."

Kyla shuddered theatrically. "The Newsted district?" She shook her head. "I dunno, hon. I heard that's a pretty rough place."

He chuckled. "Nah. You'll be runnin' the place in a week."

"You think?" He nodded. "Well, OK. I'll give it a try." She paused, and looked towards the large Cybertronian transport at the end of the docking bay. The two Maximals flanking the entry ramp seemed impatient to get going, but she only waved her tail at them coyly and turned back to her large companion. There was an awkward silence before Depth Charge appeared to think of something.

"Ah, here." He fumbled with a panel on his forearm, and pulled out the energon blade. "This is yours."

He held it out to her, but she only shook her head and looked away. "Keep it," she said. Then her tone became dark. "You can use it better than I could." Not needing to ask what she meant, he nodded solemnly and replaced it, sliding the panel shut.

"Well," Kyla said finally, shaking her head as if throwing off an unpleasant reverie. "I better get going." Then she smiled faintly at him. "Thanks. For everything. I..." she took a deep breath. "I'm glad I met you, Depth Charge."

"And, ah..." He hesitated, feeling highly self-conscious. "I'm glad I met you, too, Kyla."

He cringed at how stupid that sounded, but the female's wan expression brightened considerably. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Good." With that, she leaned forward, stood on tiptoe, and kissed him roundly on the mouth...or where his mouth would've been, anyway. "Take care of yourself, hon." Stunned into silence, Depth Charge could only watch as she backed away and gave him one last wink. Then she turned and headed for the transport, not looking back.

Not long afterwards, Depth Charge watched from the street as the Maximal ship carved a bright line through the early morning sky. Satisfied, he lowered his head and trudged back to his hotel, rubbing his aching neck and feeling ready to collapse from exhaustion. The place was nearly deserted at this early hour. He wearily climbed the stairs...he'd be glad never to have to spend another night in this place...then stopped, staring down the hallway towards his room.

There was something pinned to his door.

Quickening his steps to a fast walk, then a painful run, he came to a halt before the closed door, feet almost slipping on the ratty carpet, now slick with something sticky and damp. There was a note pinned to the door...with an organic bone. Deep red blood flowed in a thin, weak stream down the battered door from the edges of the note, which was written in neat red letters. Depth Charge read:

Well, old friend, I give you credit. That's one for your side.

How many do I have on mine?

Depth Charge's face tightened, and he yanked the message from the door, holding the splintered bone in one hand as he grasped the note in the other. He read on:

So, you see, I'm not even angered by this, not truly. One must expect a setback every now and then, after all. But for every one you save, there'll be two...or five...or ten...that you couldn't. You see?

He saw all too well.

The game goes on, my friend. I'll see you soon.

He raised his head, and spoke in a low, dangerous growl. "Yeah, you will, creep. Bet on it." He gently placed X's gruesome mementos on the floor, straightened up, then turned and headed back down the hall. There was really nothing left for him here, anyway.

But then, there was nothing for him anywhere, was there? Nothing but a life on the run, days spent hiding from his own kind, nights spent sleeping in a chair facing the door...trying not to dream, trying not to feel. That was the future that stretched out before him, racing towards the distant finish something deep inside him knew was inevitable.

But then again...

Some distant, quiet part of his soul reminded him...there might always be a certain run-down energon bar on Cybertron, where he'd always get the best table in the house, his drinks would always be free, and a good friend would be waiting to welcome him with open arms.

Maybe, just maybe, that was enough.